


Going Down

by stormthedarkcity



Series: The Pearl [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Service Top, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Trans Zevran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormthedarkcity/pseuds/stormthedarkcity
Summary: “I want to use my mouth on you, Alistair says. “I've been thinking about it, I want to try. I— I've never done it— But... I want to make you feel good."
Relationships: Alistair/Zevran Arainai
Series: The Pearl [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534775
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling pretty insecure about my smut lately but I just gotta push through and keep on posting from my backlog... I hope you like this part! It was very much inspired by a conversation with my dearest Saltlordofold, who has the _best_ ideas sometimes <3 <3

Zevran kisses well. He kisses really, really well. There’s something about the way his tongue teases and caresses, glides and pushes — something that makes Alistair melt against him, every single time. It inevitably makes his heart beat fast against his ribs, his mind feel dizzy and overwhelmed; and he is in that exact state when, one evening, as his back is pressed flat into his own bed and Zevran is straddling him, he pants:

“I want to use my mouth on you.” 

Zevran has a slow, dark smile. His lips are damp and glistening. His fist tightens around Alistair's shirt and he drags him up; or, well, what happens is rather that he pulls, and Alistair follows without hesitation.

His leg twitches against Alistair’s thigh, but he otherwise doesn’t move. He just stares at him and waits for him to continue. Alistair clears his throat.

“I've been thinking about it, I want to try. I— I've never done it — well, apart from that time where you, uh, after you removed your strap-on. But I’ve never…been in charge of it. I— I want to…” He trails off.

“You want to make me _feel good_?” Zevran offers in a purr.

“Yeah!” Alistair feels his face heat up. “It’s also a little for me,” he mumbles.

Zevran laughs. “Hmm. I see.” He bites his lip, considering. “I shall forgive your selfishness this time, but only because it has lead to such a _delicious_ idea.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, _Cariño_ , I am very much in favour of you eating me out.” His smile is sharp. Dangerous. Alistair fights back the urge to kindly ask him to use these teeth on him; he has other things to focus on right now.

Like pushing him onto his back, and kissing him again. Under him, Zevran hums appreciatively as Alistair holds his hip close. His lips are so very soft and warm, a little more pliant with every passing second, and Alistair completely forgets his original intention until he realises there’s a hand trying — rather desperately — to snake between their bodies.

Zevran is squirming.

“If you keep on stopping me from removing my trousers, Alistair,” he growls, “I might have to handcuff you again.”

Alistair’s breath catches in his throat, and he freezes. Zevran smiles up at him when he picks up on the shift in his attitude.

“One day I should tie you up and ride your face until I'm satisfied, hmm? What do you think?”

Alistair whines weakly at the mental image. “Yeah. Someday. I’d like that, I think.”

“But for today, since your movements are free…” Zevran grips his hair and twists it sharply, making Alistair groan. “Use them.”

Alistair whines his agreement and lets himself be guided — pushed — down Zevran’s body. He undoes the button of his jeans with shaking hands, slides down the zipper, and then he can’t help but plant a kiss on Zevran's stomach when he removes his shirt. And then another. The trail of fine hair tickles his face as he follows it down with his lips. He grips the sides of Zevran’s jeans and begins pulling, but it quickly becomes evident he won’t be able to take them off in his current position, so he sits back and then laughs as Zevran urgently kick his feet upward to help him.

Zevran is wearing his black boxers, the ones with the lace trim that Alistair likes seeing him in so much. He follows the detailing with the pad of his thumb.

There’s the bulge of a packer under the fabric, and he looks up at Zevran as he lowers his head and kisses it. Zevran laughs, but it’s an out of breath sound, all choked-up, and his eyes look darker than usual. Alistair pushes down on the packer without meaning to as he repositions his own body to be more comfortable, and Zevran’s legs shake slightly around him.

Alistair hadn’t anticipated how powerful this would make him feel. He lowers his mouth to the bulge again, just for the thrill of seeing Zevran huff through his nose and push his hips up toward him.

“Alistair…” Zevran warns as Alistair kisses the fabric, putting pressure into it.

“Yees?” Alistair watches him. He lays his cheek against the bulge, and revels in how Zevran squirms at the pressure.

“You had better get on with it soon,” he pants, “or my promise to handcuff you to this bed might come true sooner than you expect, yes?”

Alistair’s heartbeat quickens at the idea of having his plans ruined in such a way, but he forces himself to remember why he wanted to do this in the first place. He wants to discover this sensation at his own pace, he wants to watch every single one of Zevran’s reaction and figure out what to do from them. He’ll never get tired of watching Zevran’s reactions.

He pulls the boxers off, and the packer with them. Zevran sighs as his skin is exposed — Alistair can’t really tell if it’s a good or a bad sound, and he guesses it’s probably a bit of both.

Zevran’s thighs part as soon as Alistair has thrown the underwear aside and is lowering himself to his groin again.

Alistair has never really been so close to Zevran’s parts before, not so conscious anyway. He smells of sex, bittersweet and warm. Alistair glances up at him before pushing two fingers in the hair above his sex and moving downward. He lets them part around his clit — without much pressure, but the proximity is enough to make Zevran sigh — and keeps going, until he hits the warmest, wettest part of him. Zevran’s hormonal treatment keep him from getting very wet, but it’s still enough to lightly coat Alistair’s fingers as they smoothly — almost accidentally — begin sliding into him.

Zevran shudders. Alistair pulls his fingers back out. They glisten. Without thinking much, he puts them both into his mouth.

Zevran tastes much like he smells; warm, bitter, heady. Delicious. Alistair’s eyes flutter shut, and Zevran laughs.

Alistair’s eyes shoot open again as he feels his cheeks heating up. He can’t let the affront slide, so he pulls his fingers — now probably covered in warm saliva — out of his mouth, and lets them glide along Zevran’s dick from tip to root.

Zevran isn’t laughing any longer. He pushes up into the touch.

Alistair does it again, and then he lowers himself and traces the same pattern with the flat of his tongue. Zevran shudders under him and both his hands come to rest on the back of Alistair’s head, pulling him closer.

“Yes…” he hisses.

Alistair presses closer as he licks again, and again, and then locks his lips around the clit and — as delicately as he can — sucks it into his mouth.

Zevran cries out and bucks against him; Alistair extends an arm and pins his hips down without a second thought. The restrain doesn’t seem to put Zevran off, on the contrary: he whines, and his legs shake around Alistair.

“Oh, you are quite the fast learner, are you not?” he pants. Alistair lets go of his dick, only to lick it, firmly, once.

“I have a good master,” he says, and then winces as he’s hit with the vague knowledge of some kinky practices some people are into.

Zevran laughs breathily. “Yes, someday, perhaps.”

Alistair doesn’t like not quite knowing what they’re talking about, so he lowers his head again and dips his tongue toward Zevran’s entrance. It does fulfil its main purpose, which was to get Zevran to shut up; but it also fulfils a second, unexpected purpose, and Alistair is hit by a full-body shiver as he feels his cock press hard against his clothes and against the bed.

He hadn’t even noticed he was getting hard. Well, he had been _very_ aware of how thrilling this whole thing was, but he hadn’t taken note of his cock’s reaction until it was straining painfully against his jeans.

“Something wrong?” Zevran purrs. He knows very well what’s happening, if his smug expression is anything to go by.

Alistair huffs. He hopes he looks as collected as Zevran does in these situations, but he guesses he rather looks…dishevelled. Especially when Zevran’s hands tighten in his hair.

There’s a challenge in the way Zevran cocks an eyebrow.

_Think you can handle it?_

Alistair doesn’t know how long he can endure the painful pressure on his cock; but he does like a good challenge, so he pushes that discomfort away and dips his head between Zevran’s thighs again.

This time he uses both his mouth and his fingers, alternating them between Zevran’s dick and his hole, which is getting slicker by the minute. Alistair can’t even tell which slick is Zevran’s and which is his. All he knows is that his touches glide more and more smoothly with each swipe, each suck, each pressure he applies.

The whole thing isn’t all evident, and it doesn’t all work out from his first tries, but Zevran is generous in his sounds and in his hints, and Alistair just has to be attentive enough to know how to make him groan and shudder.

Alistair had thought this made him feel powerful; and it had, in the beginning. But then, drowned in the smell of Zevran’s sex, in the noises and encouragements flowing form his lips, in the harshness of his hands tugging on his hair — he sort of loses that feeling of power. His game turns into a sort of…worship. He’s only vaguely aware of his face being slowly covered in juices, of his breath turning into appreciative moans as Zevran presses him closer and closer to himself, never quite grinding, but always keeping him right against his sex.

“I’m close.”

Zevran’s voice seems a little muffled. Alistair presses his tongue harder against his dick, curling his fingers into Zevran like he seems to like. The tug at his hair stings, hard, but he doesn't quite mind. He sucks the clit into his mouth, revelling in the way it throbs against his tongue; and then Zevran’s hands spasm and firmly keeps him against him, so close to his skin that Alistair can barely breathe.

Zevran’s thighs constrict around his body, trapping him there as he comes against his tongue. The feeling of his orgasm ripples through him, all the way to Alistair's fingers. It’s always an exhilarating feeling, having Zevran come in his arms — but having him come right against his face is something else entirely.

Zevran’s legs are trembling as he finally lets him go. His body sags back onto the bed, and there’s a single hand left in Alistair's hair that weakly pulls him upward. Alistair follows on all fours, limbs shaking, until he’s level with Zevran’s face.

He looks well-fucked.

_Well fucked by him._

Zevran grins up at him.

“Not bad, _guapo_ , not bad.”

Alistair feels his cheeks burn. The nicknames Zevran usually has for him are a lot _cuter_ and, although he does love them, he can't say that hearing a more serious one to refer to him isn’t making his chest feel warm. At least he thinks it’s serious. He isn’t certain of the exact translation, but he knows that Zevran’s expression is one of genuine admiration as he says this.

It’s not the first time Zevran has orgasmed with him; but it _is_ the first time it's almost entirely thanks to Alistair, and that stirs something in his chest.

And in his pants.

He’s painfully reminded of his current predicament as he tries to shift forward to kiss Zevran and finds himself rubbing his cock against his clothes in very unpleasant ways. He groans, before letting himself fall on his back next to Zevran, and urgently opening his jeans to free his cock.

He’s already so close to coming. He shudders as he wraps a hand around the shaft. He begins jerking himself off in sharp, quick movements, as Zevran rolls to his side and rests his head on his fist. His free hand wanders around Alistair’s chest.

“You have remained remarkably focused,” he purrs, “I am impressed.”

“I, uh, I forgot, about me” Alistair admits, glancing at him.

Zevran’s eyebrows shoot up. “You forgot,” he repeats.

“Is that weird?”

Zevran moves closer, and he turns Alistair’s head so they face each other. “What it is, Alistair, _Cariño_ , is _very hot_.”

Alistair whines.

Zevran kisses him. Alistair distantly wonders if he enjoys tasting himself on someone else’s tongue as much as Alistair does, after Zevran has blown him.

And then he’s not wondering about anything else anymore, because he’s coming through his fingers, so hard and desperate that his vision goes blank for a second.

As he lays there with heavy eyelids, recovering, Zevran enters his field of vision with an amused grin.

“I would recommend washing your face first, should you intend on going to sleep soon. You have, ah, how to say… You have really _committed_ to your idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find this fic on [ tumblr](https://stormthedarkcity.tumblr.com/post/190958101508/)!
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. I invite and appreciate feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> I reply to comments! If however you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to add "/whisper" or "#whisper" to your comment and I'll appreciate it but not respond!  
> 


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